


Sunk Cost

by anthean



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Grand Theft Grand Admiral, M/M, Talking, eventual E rating, lots and lots of talking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-14 08:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21012797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anthean/pseuds/anthean
Summary: “You follow my orders,” said Ar’alani. A statement and a reminder.“I do, Admiral,” Eli’van’to said.“Good,” said Ar’alani. “Let us then discuss what you will do when Mitth’raw’nuruodo arrives.”--Or, In Which Ar'alani Gets Fed the Hell Up and Drags Thrawn Home By the Ear. AU from the end ofTreason. Thanks to tristesses for the beta!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Meta-Summary: "I got really fucking annoyed at everyone carrying the Idiot Ball at the end of _Treason_ just so Thrawn could go get space-whaled in _Rebels_, so I wrote a fic to deal with it."
> 
> Brief content note: Un'hee appears in the first chapter having a meltdown/panic attack due to something she senses with her navigator abilities. I didn't feel this was worth tagging, but read cautiously if that's going to bother you.

The shuttle was loaded; the final pre-flight checks were being made as they prepared for their final flight to the _ Chimaera_. Ar’alani stood in her hangar bay and surveyed the damage.

The visible damage was bad enough: the hull was buckled in places, shored up with emergency scaffolds until crews could make more lasting repairs. Dense foam had been sprayed into the numerous hairline cracks and left to harden. It would stand up to hyperspace, would get them home, but the _ Steadfast _would spend some time in spacedock when they got there.

There was invisible damage, too; Ar’alani cataloged it mentally as she waited for her shuttle. The flickering hangar lights pointed to disrupted or broken power lines deep within the ship. The dents in the hull were dramatic, but the attendant weakening extended into apparently undamaged parts of the ship, threatening the stability of the whole structure. There were gaps, too, where there should have been stores of ammunition and supplies, leaving them vulnerable as they limped home.

There were other, worse, gaps. Crewmembers had died during the battle, leaving empty places where there should have been people at work. Others had survived but were still in Sickbay, physical injuries that would heal slowly and mental scars that would linger.

Ar’alani tightened her mouth. There would be time for her crew to heal and recover, assuming her final visit to Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s ship went smoothly. Assuming he had no further schemes to involve them in.

Her gaze fell on Lieutenant Commander Eli’van’to, waiting with her for the shuttle to be prepared. He caught the feeling of her stare immediately and looked up, his eyes questioning, awaiting orders. He held her gaze for a moment, and then his face twitched. His shoulders lifted minutely and then dropped again.

Human body language was tedious, but they used it so much that Ar’alani had learned to pay attention to Eli’van’to’s, and she suspected he was indicating that their thoughts lay in the same direction. It was true that she had known Mitth’raw’nuruodo for much longer than had Eli’van’to, but he had known him more recently, and in a different environment. Their relationship, too, was different.

Further consultation with Eli’van’to regarding Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s movements was something to consider more deeply.

Her comm trilled. “Ar’alani,” she said, keying it on.

Navigator Vah’nya’s voice burst from the comm, ragged and panicked. “Admiral!” she cried.

A faint sound came through the comm underneath her voice, something Ar’alani could not identify. It did not matter; she was already striding towards the hangar bay door.

“Admiral, something’s wrong, it’s Un’hee! Please, you have to help!”

Ar’alani slammed through the hangar bay door and into the corridor, barely conscious of Eli’van’to’s footsteps close behind her. She would reprimand him later; now that she was out of the hangar bay, she could identify the noise bleeding around the edges of Vah’nya’s frantic call for help.

It was screaming.

She broke into a run.

Crew members dove out of her way as she flew through the corridors, skidding around corners and sliding across the smooth floors. “Where are you, Navigator?” she panted into the comm.

“The ready room,” Vah’nya replied. Her voice was already a little calmer now that Ar’alani was on the way. Ar’alani veered left and shortcut through a maintenance hatch, and there finally was the ready room door in front of her, outlined with red lights. 

She threw herself inside.

The navigators were huddled together in the center of the room, forming a protective knot around Un’hee. Vah’nya held the little navigator close in her lap, undisguised relief in her face as she looked up and saw Ar’alani in the doorway. The other navigators pressed tightly around them, hands touching Un’hee wherever they could, their faces tight with confusion and fear.

And Un’hee…

She had curled her body into a rigid ball, tucked as small as she could make herself, her face squashed into Vah’nya’s shoulder. Her spine stood out through her shirt, a tense line against the spasming muscles of her back, and she shook slightly.

And an unending keening moan clawed its way out of her throat, now shaky and soft, now building into a frantic scream of terror as her tremors increased, the scream of a child who had been terrorized past her ability to cope.

Ar’alani threaded her way into the knot of navigators; they parted for her smoothly and closed ranks behind her again as she sat on the floor next to Vah’nya and took Un’hee’s unprotesting body from her arms. One of the younger navigators immediately took the vacant spot in Vah’nya’s lap, huddling close.

Un’hee’s body was unmoving except for the unsteady heave of her breath, and the wavering scream didn’t break, as though she hadn’t noticed Ar’alani’s presence. Perhaps she hadn’t: her eyes were squeezed shut.

Ar’alani wrapped her arms tightly around Un’hee. “Navigator, it is time to return,” she said, keeping her voice firm. She slowed and deepened her breath, positioning Un’hee so that she would be able to feel the rise and fall of Ar’alani’s chest against her own. Dimly, she was aware of the door opening again, of Eli’van’to standing there shocked for a moment before entering, but that was unimportant now.

“Inhale with me, Un’hee,” she said. “One, two, three. Hold, and exhale. One, two, three. Hold, and inhale.”

She repeated the count for long minutes, Un’hee’s back shaking under her hands. Around her, the other navigators slowly fell in with the count, their breathing slowing and steadying as they took up the exercise. After a while, Vah’nya added her voice to Ar’alani’s.

It was a long time before Ar’alani felt Un’hee’s breathing begin to calm, a long time before the scream died away into quiet exhausted tears, but eventually Un’hee’s body loosened and her arms came up to circle Ar’alani’s neck. Ar’alani ended the count and began stroking Un’hee’s back in comfort, whispering soothing nonsense. The other navigators, some of their fear taken away, began moving closer as well. Mi’yaric leaned against Ar’alani’s shoulder, her head touching Un’hee’s, and Ee’rakuri reached out from her place on Vah’nya’s lap to give Un’hee a clumsy hug.

Ar’alani let them rest for a while, then remembered Eli’van’to’s presence. “Return to the shuttle bay, Lieutenant Commander,” she ordered. They could have a conversation about his acting without orders later.

But Un’hee raised her head. “Lieutenant Eli?” she asked, looking around for him. Her voice, hoarse from screaming, still quivered with tears.

Ar’alani cursed internally. “Belay that,” she said. “Navigator Vah’nya, take your sisters somewhere calming. Your quarters, perhaps, or the refectory if they’re hungry. Lieutenant Commander Eli’van’to, remain here.”

Vah’nya rose to her feet and began untangling the other navigators from their knot around Un’hee. It was difficult: the instinct to protect a navigator sister was very strong. Ar’alani remembered it herself, could almost feel the threads of connected thought between them.

Ee’rakuri was especially hard to pry away. “Will Un’hee be all right?” she asked, her face furrowed with worry.

“The Admiral and Lieutenant Eli will help,” Vah’nya said. “Let’s let them talk to Un’hee, and we can come back and see her later.”

Ee’rakuri nodded and let Vah’nya lead her away. The navigators disappeared through the doors, Vah’nya already proposing they visit the refectory and see if Steward Galal'ei'inrokini had made any extra dessert.

Eli’van’to crossed the room and sat in front of Ar’alani. She passed Un’hee over to him, and he settled her on his lap with competent hands. He looked comfortable with a child on his lap, relaxed, and Ar’alani briefly wondered if he’d had family in the Empire: siblings or cousins, maybe. She’d never asked, and probably wouldn’t.

“You were pretty scared, huh?” Eli’van’to asked, and Un’hee nodded, her head resting against his chest. “Can you tell us what scared you?”

Un’hee stiffened and shook her head violently. She made a sound in her throat, a hint of that unending scream.

“Okay, sweetheart, okay,” Eli’van’to said. He looked at Ar’alani and widened his eyes, clearly not sure where to go from there.

He wouldn’t, of course. He wasn’t Chiss.

“Navigator,” Ar’alani said, gentle but brooking no argument, and Un’hee straightened up a little on Eli’van’to’s lap.

“Something big and dark,” she said, wavering but clear.

“Something you saw before?” Ar’alani asked.

“In his mind,” Un’hee said. Ar’alani didn’t think she was talking about Eli’van’to. “He thinks it doesn’t leak, but I could tell, I could see it. I don’t think anyone else could, because he thinks it doesn’t leak and everyone believes him. I just remembered. In all of their minds, but especially his, because he’s seen them. He’s seen _ them_. Vah’nya showed me, but I didn’t see it at first.”

She was starting to shake again. Ar’alani picked her up from Eli’van’to’s lap and settled her on her own, and the shivers subsided a little.

“If I call Navigator Vah’nya back, you can use Second Sight to show her what you saw,” Ar’alani said.

Un’hee jerked violently. “No!” she cried. “That’s what _ they _would do.”

“Who are _ they_, Navigator?” Ar’alani asked.

“He’s seen them, he’s talked to them, they know him.” Un’hee curled tighter into Ar’alani’s lap, and a fresh flow of tears began trickling down her face. “They’re going to kill all of us.”

Eli’van’to reached out and took Un’hee’s hand. She grabbed onto it tight.

“When you say _ he_,” Eli’van’to asked, “do you mean Mitth’raw’nuruodo? The man who was with the Admiral and I when we found you?”

Un’hee sniffed and fixed Eli’van’to with a glare. “Obviously,” she said, her voice a little clearer. 

Ar’alani kept her face still, but smiled inside at Un’hee’s strength. “All right, Un’hee,” she said. “You saw something in Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s mind, something that scared you very badly. I need to know what that thing was. You do not want Vah’nya to use Second Sight. So, you must tell me, as clearly as you can.”

Un’hee breathed for a moment. From the rhythm, she was counting inside her own head, and Ar’alani was impressed at her self-containment. Finally, she spoke.

“There’s someone,” she said. “He was like us, like a navigator, but he isn’t any more, or he still is, or he might be again one day. He’s dark, he’s the darkest thing I ever saw, but he burns at the same time. He was burned, and he’s still burning. He left a door inside Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s mind. I could see him there. _ You _know.” She turned her face up to Ar’alani. “We can see each other.”

“I know,” Ar’alani said, her thoughts racing. Someone with a navigator’s power, who had touched Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s thoughts, who was terrible enough that seeing the trace of his mind within Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s was enough to send Un’hee into screaming madness…

“Vader,” Eli’van’to said suddenly. “She’s talking about Lord Vader.” His face turned uncertain. “I don’t think Thrawn ever met him while I was there, but I guess he’s had time since…”

“Who is this Vader?” Ar’alani asked. In her arms, Un’hee had gone still and quiet, as though hiding from a predator, and that was really all Ar’alani needed to know.

“The Emperor’s enforcer, I think,” Eli’van’to said. He frowned. “There are a lot of weird stories about him. If even a quarter of them are true, he’d definitely be able to...sense, I guess, Thrawn’s thoughts, like Un’hee is describing.” 

“They will kill _ us_,” Un’hee repeated, more urgently this time.

“Who are _ they_, Un’hee?” Eli’van’to asked. “Vader and…?”

“Vader and his Emperor,” Un’hee said. Her shaking seemed to have subsided, but the deadened calm was almost worse. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s Emperor. They’ve done it before. I can see the darkness that was left in Mitth’raw’nuruodo’s mind, all the blood. Navigator blood. He will lead them to us, they will find us, and they will kill us. Me, my sisters. You. _ They’ve done it before_.”

Un’hee slumped against Ar’alani’s chest, clearly near the end of her endurance. Ar’alani felt a wave of anger rising cold and deadly within her.

“Has Mitth’raw’nuruodo told them?” she asked, keeping her voice very carefully controlled. “Do they know about our navigators?”

“Don’t know,” Un’hee mumbled. “Maybe.”

The wave broke.

“Lieutenant Commander, you will comm Medical for Un’hee,” Ar’alani snapped, rising to her feet with Un’hee’s slack body held close to her chest.

Eli’van’to scrambled to his own feet and complied. The medic arrived almost before he’d finished the call, suggesting that she’d been previously summoned, probably by Vah’nya, and had been waiting outside.

Once Un’hee had been transferred to the medic and taken away, Ar’alani turned to Eli’van’to, her face set.

He looked apprehensive. Good.

“Who holds your loyalty, Eli’van’to?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to respond, then appeared to think better of it. A wave of heat rose on his face.

“Answer,” she said. Ar’alani appreciated thoughtfulness in her crew, but this was not a situation where she could afford to wait.

“I serve the Ascendency, ma’am,” Eli’van’to said. “I won’t try to tell you that the Empire has no hold over me. We’d both know I was lying. But I knew what I was doing when I came here. I follow your orders.”

Ar’alani nodded. “And what of Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” she asked. “What measure of your loyalty does he hold, alone?”

Eli’van’to flinched. Her thought had been correct, then.

“Admiral,” he began slowly, “Thrawn and I worked side by side for ten years. He was-” a pause, and the heat in his face grew stronger “-my friend. I wouldn’t have left the Empire for anyone else. Again, I won’t try to tell you that I feel no loyalty to him. But he doesn’t tell me what to do.”

“Good,” Ar’alani said. “Comm the _ Chimaera_. Tell them there has been a change of plans. We are no longer coming to them.”

“They’ve been comming us for the last while, actually. Asking if we’re all right. I put my comm on mute to not upset Un’hee,” Eli’van’to said.

Ar’alani ignored this. “Tell Mitth’raw’nuruodo that he is to come in a shuttle alone. No pilot, no guards, no Faro. I do not care how you accomplish this, but he comes alone.”

“Yes, Admiral,” he said briskly. If he felt confusion, he hid it well.

“You follow my orders,” said Ar’alani. A statement and a reminder.

“I do, Admiral,” Eli’van’to said.

“Good,” said Ar’alani. “Let us then discuss what you will do when Mitth’raw’nuruodo arrives.”

* * *

Thrawn set the shuttle down in the _ Steadfast’s _ hangar bay and initiated the power-down sequence. Through the viewscreen, he could see technicians and repair workers swarming over the bay, putting the ship back together just enough to withstand hyperspace flight. This close, the damage was shocking; the fact that the _ Steadfast _had come through the battle largely whole was a strong testament to the skill and courage of its crew.

Ar’alani stood near the hangar door, her hands clasped behind her back and a look of concentration on her face. 

Vanto stood beside her and a little behind, apparently examining something on a datapad.

The sight sent something a little unwelcome sliding through his chest. If Thrawn was honest, he had hoped to conclude his business with the _ Steadfast _and return to the Empire without seeing his former aide again.

It wasn’t that Vanto was unwanted. It had been...good to work beside him once more, to remind himself of Vanto’s skill and perception, to see how Vanto had flourished under Ar’alani’s command even as he chafed at the analytic role that she had assigned him. Seeing him once again standing on the bridge of the _ Chimaera _had felt right.

It was inconsequential. Sending Vanto to the Ascendency was the appropriate use of his skills, and Thrawn could function effectively without him, of course, no matter how pleasant having Vanto at his side was.

The thoughts passed in a flash. He set Vanto aside and turned his gaze to Ar’alani, who was now walking purposefully to the shuttle. A little odd that she would come to the hangar bay herself, but not particularly unusual. She likely wanted to conclude their business quickly, without bothering to bring Thrawn to her office. A short consult, and Thrawn could return to his shuttle and the _ Chimaera _without disrupting the business of her ship more than necessary.

He respected Ar’alani, and knew she respected him in turn. But her respect was tinged with frustration and impatience with Thrawn’s methods, and after the events of the last few days she would not want him on her ship for long.

“Are we going to get off the shuttle, or just sit here in the hangar bay?” a voice behind him demanded.

Thrawn allowed himself a small smile. Ar’alani would be even less pleased when she realized he had not come alone, as requested, but had brought another resource for the Ascendency’s use.

“Indeed, Assistant Director,” he said, unbuckling the safety belt and unfolding himself from the pilot’s seat.

“You may as well call me Ronan,” his passenger sniffed. “It’s not like I’m assistant director of anything any more.”

“Of course,” Thrawn said as they exited the shuttle and began walking across the hangar.

“I hope you have a better explanation for my disappearance than you did for Vanto’s,” Ronan said. His voice held anxiety, worry for the effect his disappearance might have in the eyes of the Director he admired so much. “What are you going to tell Director Krennic?”

“Your reputation will remain untarnished,” Thrawn assured him.

“Not what I asked,” Ronan muttered, and then they were approaching Ar’alani and Vanto.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Ar’alani greeted him. Her face had grown stiff as they approached. “Your TIE Defenders were invaluable in the battle. They were sent back to the _ Chimaera _on your departure.” She paused, her shoulders tensing. “I requested that you come alone.”

“I passed the TIEs on my way here. And I know,” Thrawn replied. He spoke Cheunh, as Ar’alani had. “My apologies for not informing you of my plans.” 

Behind Ar’alani, Vanto’s face twitched. With amusement? Worry? The expression was ambiguous, and it was mildly unsettling.

He continued. “Assistant Director Ronan felt that returning to his post would be unwise, given the changing political structure of the Empire. I therefore bring him to you. I think you will find him useful.”

“You bring me an angry, uncommitted, potential traitor and call it a gift,” Ar’alani said. “You have interesting ideas about what is useful to me.”

Her voice held more anger than Thrawn might have expected at the surprise and inconvenience of Ronan’s presence. Then again, her ship had just been through a brutal battle. Some additional stress was not unexpected.

“His use is up to you now. I have suggestions, if you would like to hear them.”

Ar’alani dismissed that with a flick of her fingers. “Very well,” she said. “Chaf’el’sinuro, take this man to guest quarters. I will decide what to do with him later.”

One of the security officers that had been helping with repairs jumped down from a ladder and gestured at Ronan, who looked confused. Vanto nodded at him encouragingly, and Ronan followed the officer through the hangar door.

“Not Lieutenant Vanto?” Thrawn frowned. Ronan spoke neither Cheunh nor Sy Bisti. Vanto would surely be the appropriate person to begin his orientation.

Ar’alani smiled joylessly. “Vanto has another duty at this moment,” she said. “With me, please.”

They followed her to a small briefing room at the side of the hangar bay. The door was narrow, and due to differences in their relative paces and positioning, Thrawn was second through the door, behind Vanto and in front of Ar’alani.

A glimpse, a flicker of movement in the corners of his eyes--

A pair of security officers appeared on either side of him, twisting his arms behind his back and securing his wrists with binders. He kicked out, a stream of possibilities and actions flowing instantly through his mind--Ar’alani blocking the door behind him; the hangar full of people, an unknown number of whom might also be guards; his shuttle halfway across the hangar behind him, engines cold; Eli’s hands clenched in anger but his face showing only determination, no conflict, no--

The guards drove him to his knees.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” Ar’alani said, her voice clear and cold. “You have consorted with enemies of the Chiss Ascendency and supplied them with information exposing the Ascendency’s military secrets. This information you did not have permission to reveal, leaving us open to potentially devastating attacks.” She reached down and plucked the comm from his belt, dropping it to the floor and crushing it under her boot.

“Admiral,” Vanto said, stepping forward, and Thrawn felt a moment’s insane hope that Vanto was speaking to him.

Then Vanto unclipped the rank plaque from Thrawn’s uniform and popped open the back to reveal the small holdout comm Thrawn had installed there. He fiddled with the plaque for a moment, finally separating the comm circuit entirely and snapping it between his fingers.

Every second that passed decreased his chances of making it back to the _ Chimaera_, but during the brief moments in which Vanto’s fingers brushed across his chest Thrawn knelt frozen. He was distantly aware of a dull ache in his knees where they had slammed into the floor, and the security officers’ hands were tight on his shoulders.

The physical discomfort was entirely bearable. Ar’alani’s actions were surprising, but not--he reflected with the corners of his brain not paralyzed with shock--retrospectively unpredictable. She had vocally disapproved of his actions even before he had entered the Empire. Not expecting her disapproval to culminate in an actual arrest had been his own error.

But Vanto’s betrayal lanced deep.

“He usually has a second one,” Vanto said to Ar’alani in unnecessary explanation. He kept his eyes away from Thrawn’s face, but his cheeks were hot and his neck muscles tight. He dropped the pieces of the comm to the floor and shook out his hands a little, as though he had burned his fingers.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” Ar’alani said. She returned her attention to Thrawn. 

Thrawn felt a moment’s inappropriate satisfaction at the restoration of Vanto’s proper rank before forcing himself to focus on the problem at hand. He rose to his feet, pushing against the restraining hands of the guards until they let him up.

“This is unwise, Admiral,” he warned. “Remove me from the Empire and you remove my ability to defend them against both the rebels and the Grysks. You also risk drawing their punitive attention when they realize you have stolen me.”

“Even now, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, you prioritize the defense of the Empire over the defense of your own people,” Ar’alani said stonily. Vanto stood silent beside her, face blank. 

“As I have explained, Admiral, I-” Thrawn began, impatience flaring in his chest.

Ar’alani spoke over him. “A choice is now before you. You will return to the Ascendency to make restitution for your mistakes. However, the manner of your return is up to you. Give me your word that you will not attempt escape, and you may stay in quarters under observation and without freedom of movement. Struggle, fight, and I will arrest you for treason. You will be confined to the brig and turned over to the judgment of the Defense Force and Aristocra upon our return to Chiss space.”

Bend a little, and retain much of his power. Fight, and have all degrees of freedom taken away.

The choice was really no choice at all.

“You have my parole, Admiral,” he said. The words tasted sour on his tongue, but then, they were only words. He had promised worse, and with as little faith.

Ar’alani nodded at the security guards, and they dropped his arms and unbound his hands. “Escort him to quarters,” she ordered.

Vanto spoke before they could move. “Admiral, permission to speak to Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” he asked.

“Permission denied, Lieutenant Commander,” Ar’alani said. She stood more securely now, satisfied with the outcome of her plan. “You are on duty. You may visit him during your off-shift.”

Vanto nodded. His eyes flicked up to meet Thrawn’s own for a glancing moment, long enough for his face to flush with heat before he tore his gaze away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thrawn makes some great decisions.

The quarters they brought him to were, Thrawn guessed, intended for visitors of relatively low rank: a single room with a fold-down bunk, a storage locker, a small desk, and a chair. The attached fresher cubicle was cramped and minimalist, but was at least the right size.

His mouth twisted. After ten years hitting his head in the Empire, finally, a shower complex tall enough to accommodate him.

All communication devices had been removed from the quarters, as had the built-in data terminal, clear evidence that his capture had been planned. There was a datapad unconnected to the ship’s network that contained a few holonovels and nothing else, and a set of nondescript Chiss civilian clothes folded neatly in the locker. Thrawn ignored both of these. He was uninterested in reading, and had no intention of putting on the clothes and giving up the visual evidence of his work in the Empire. He found no listening or recording devices, which probably meant that there weren’t any. Chiss notions of fair treatment of prisoners were different than Imperial ones.

The door, of course, was locked from the outside.

There was nothing immediately obvious that could help him escape. He had turned over the entire room in under ten minutes, but started his search again. It was something to do, an action to take, while he studied the problem in his mind.

He was interrupted by the door chiming and Ar’alani entering.

“Mitth’raw’nuruodo,” she greeted.

Thrawn straightened up from where he had been examining the underside of the desk, making no attempt to pretend that he had not been looking for escape tools.

“Admiral,” he replied.

She stared at him for a moment, then crossed the room and sat down in the chair. “I wonder,” she said, her eyes hard, “if you realize what you have done.”

Thrawn considered his options. He could remain standing as though in the presence of a superior officer, which did not appeal. Neither did leaning against the desk: the awkward pose would put him visually off-balance.

He finally settled for sitting on the bed across from Ar’alani.

“As we have previously discussed, Admiral,” he replied, “I have protected the Ascendency in the ways that I judged best. Given my exile, the Aristocra and Defense Force consequently must expect to give up some control over the nature of that protection. And as I recall, you yourself accepted my arguments in favor of my work in the Empire not that long ago.”

Ar’alani’s face had grown darker as Thrawn had spoken. “Your work in the Empire,” she repeated. “What benefit has the Ascendency seen from that work? What greater protection have we gained? Which of our enemies have you eliminated?” 

She cut her hand through the air, shook her head sharply. “Let me be clear, Mitth’raw’nuruodo. The Defense Force and Aristocra will look poorly on your behavior. There is a very real chance that you will be imprisoned upon our return to Csilla, perhaps for life.”

But Ar’alani didn’t want that. If Thrawn’s imprisonment was her desired outcome, this conversation would not be taking place. “I assume you have a counteroffer.”

Ar’alani inclined her head. “Show me that you are loyal,” she said. “Here, on this ship, before our return. Convince me that the Empire retains no hold over you.”

Thrawn studied her face. Traces of anger, tightness in the jaw and forehead, but relaxed around the eyes. And her offer…

“You haven’t told them,” he said. Ar’alani nodded minutely, confirming his deduction. “You could have arrested me publicly, so that the news of my presumed disloyalty would spread throughout the crew. Yet you did not. You have arranged matters such that hardly anyone even knows that I am here. The Defense Force and Aristocra will therefore know only what you tell them of the situation.”

“The Ascendency is poised above a schism,” Ar’alani said. Her face twisted with real pain. “Your actions have potentially made that schism much worse.”

A bolt of anger--he would not call it indignation--ran up Thrawn’s neck. He leaned forward to reply.

Ar’alani held up a hand. “I am speaking,” she said. “Despite your mistakes, your skills may be crucial as the Ascendency navigates the upcoming war. Your imprisonment would be a waste.”

It was an enormous opening, and the fact that Ar’alani had let him see it so clearly spoke to her desperation. But desperate people were careless.

The urge to go along with Ar’alani’s plan, to return to the Ascendency even bearing some undefined secret shame, was strong. But stronger was the certain knowledge that his work in the Empire had been important, would grant more subtle, long-lasting protection than the members of the Defense Force High Command--even Ar’alani herself--were able to understand.

He had thought Ar’alani had accepted his logic, even if the Defense Force had not. But they truly had given up command over his actions when they had exiled him.

Perhaps Ar’alani could be reconvinced.

“I have a counterproposal,” he said.

But Ar’alani’s eyes sharpened and she shook her head. “This is not a negotiation,” she said firmly. “Your position is precarious. I am offering you a path to security, if you could only see it.”

“My position is more precarious now that you have removed me from the Empire,” Thrawn snapped. A mistake, to let his temper show, but Ar’alani’s short-sightedness--the short-sightedness of the entire Defense Force, if he was honest--was beginning to grate. “My work there was bearing fruit. I had the Emperor’s ear, was positioned to shape the Empire’s future. You risk bringing their punitive might upon the Ascendency when they learn you have stolen me. Was that your design?”

“Are you threatening me, Mitth’raw’nuruodo?” Ar’alani asked. She did not appear remotely threatened. “Let me clarify your situation further, and then tell me if you would rather not return to your Emperor.”

“By all means,” Thrawn said, waving a hand. This conversation was growing tedious.

“I said before that you risk imprisonment,” Ar’alani began. “If anything, I underestimated. There are those who would call for your execution, and they would be justified in doing so.”

Thrawn turned that over for a moment, a faint frisson of unease slipping down his spine. Execution was a rare, severe punishment, generally considered too aggressive by the cautious Chiss. There were few situations where execution was felt to be an appropriate punishment, and he had stumbled into none of them.

Or so he had thought.

“Clearly, you have information I do not,” he said.

“Vader,” Ar’alani said.

Shock hit Thrawn like a punch between the shoulder blades. “I have never mentioned that name,” he said, keeping his voice steady by only the thinnest margin.

“You did not need to,” Ar’alani said, her voice grim and satisfied. She stood, letting her full height loom over him, and after a moment Thrawn stood too. “Un’hee has seen him in your mind, has seen the cracks he left there for his Emperor to pry open. He has dealt so much death that it has left a trace on your soul even a child can see.”

“We ourselves are dealers in death.” Thrawn shook his head. “Vader’s powers were...unexpected, I admit. Even startling. But my mind remains untouched.”

“How would you know?” Ar’alani asked. “You were never a navigator. You do not know our skills. And Un’hee has told me that Vader’s powers far, far eclipse even our strongest navigators’. Eli’van’to has confirmed.”

She stepped forward and set a hand on his shoulder. From a friend, the gesture would have been comforting. From Ar’alani, it was a reminder of her power.

“Your mind is not your own anymore, Thrawn. Vader’s trap waits only for the Emperor’s touch. And what he finds there…”

Ar’alani stepped back, her face severe.

“You say that we ourselves are dealers in death. So it is in war. But the stain of death that Vader has left on you is the stain of navigator death. He has slaughtered thousands, enough that a glimpse of his ghost was enough to nearly send Un’hee out of her mind. She is still being cared for in Medical, and she may never be able to navigate again.

“And when your Emperor looks into your mind, what will he find there? Our navigators, our greatest secret and greatest treasure, and he may decide the time is right for a second slaughter. You know that the punishment for harming a navigator is immediate death. What is the punishment for endangering every single navigator in the Chiss Ascendency through reckless idiocy?”

Ar’alani’s voice had dropped as she spoke, until it held only cold, remorseless fury. Thrawn felt it wash over him as he searched for a chink in her argument.

It was not true. It could not be true. No trace of Vader had ever truly entered his mind, could not remain there now. He would have felt it, would have known.

Wouldn’t he?

His mouth was dry. He wet his lips, drew breath to speak, but no words came.

“Show me that you are loyal,” Ar’alani said again. “Give me some assurance that you work only for the Chiss. Let Vah’nya look into your mind. Do this, and I will soften your mistakes for the Aristocra. Refuse, and I turn you over to them. You may contemplate the catastrophe that your actions have brought upon us before you are executed.”

She waited for a moment, looking at Thrawn expectantly.

Surrender or die; one cage or another. There were never only two options in any situation. A third would present itself. He would _ make _a third.

He met her eyes, but said nothing.

Ar’alani’s throat and mouth tightened and her eyes flickered. Resignation, cynicism, disappointment. And fear.

She turned and disappeared through the door.

Thrawn stood in the center of the small room for a long moment, then sat absently back down on the bed. His mind was blank. He let his eyes rest on the desk where Ar’alani had sat, let it fill his sight until it was just a collection of lines and shadows, planes and curves and abstract forms, then built it back up piece by piece until it was a desk again, functional and ordinary.

He could think now. The shock over, his mind was his own again.

He must believe that. The alternative--that Vader had crept in unnoticed, had left hairline fractures for the Emperor to exploit--was so distasteful that he shied away from contemplating it. Not the betrayal, such as it was: he and Vader had made their positions with regard to one another very clear.

But the idea that a foreign presence could have invaded his mind _ undetected_...

No. Despite Ar’alani’s claims, he must believe that his mind was his own to control. He had felt Vader delicately probing around the edges of his thoughts. Surely he would have felt if Vader had made real inroads.

He must believe that, or begin doubting all of his work. And the work was too important. Too much weight hung on his work in the Empire, the safety and security of too many of his people. He could not abandon it, regardless of Ar’alani’s fears.

Fears which were, no doubt, unfounded.

And he already knew what his third option would be.

Thrawn was still sitting on the bed when the door chimed again a few hours later. “Come in,” he called, as though whoever was on the other side couldn’t just walk in as they pleased.

The door opened and Vanto entered.

He stood just inside the door as though unsure about entering further. His hands were clasped in front of him, an old unconscious gesture that Thrawn recognized immediately. Faint heat suffused his face, and his shoulders were tense under his uniform jacket, his jaw set and mouth tight.

Anger. Thrawn had seen anger on Vanto’s face many times before, recognized it immediately. It had been years, though, since that anger had been directed at him rather than their mutual enemies. Best to head that anger off quickly, until they were once again working in the same direction.

“Admiral,” Vanto said, and then blushed deeper as he realized the mistake.

An opening. “I believe my rank is somewhat ambiguous at the moment, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn replied. “Under the circumstances, perhaps you should call me Thrawn.”

It was clearly not the response Vanto had expected, and he was off-balance. “Thrawn,” he repeated. “Okay. You, uh, may as well call me Eli, then. If we’re going to be informal. I just came off duty, anyway.”

“Eli,” Thrawn said. It was satisfying to finally say the name out loud. He sat back down on the bed and gestured at the chair, and after a faint hesitation Eli sat as well.

Thrawn opened his mouth to speak, but was struck momentarily speechless by the sight of Eli so near, sitting upright and comfortable in the black Defense Force uniform. The sight was comforting, somehow: his aide and friend at his side again, but with Eli’s considerable skills now in service to a force that would value them appropriately.

He had waited too long to speak. “I was pleased to hear of the restoration of your rank,” Thrawn said. An inconsequential pleasantry. A mistake.

Eli ignored him. “What in _ hells_, Thrawn?” he burst out. He leaned forward, hands clenching. “You’ve been tangling with Vader? Gods, I knew you were in deep, but that’s a totally different level. _ Vader? _”

“A warrior cannot always choose his allies,” Thrawn said.

“From what I’ve heard, Vader isn’t anyone’s ally except the Emperor’s,” Eli fired back. His eyes darted down and away when he mentioned the Emperor, evidence of his residual fear. “And from what I heard from Un’hee and Vah’nya, neither Vader nor the Emperor is on your side.”

An overly simplistic description of the situation, but Thrawn had already had that argument with Ar’alani. Besides, he was more interested in Eli’s interactions with the Chiss.

“You believe Un’hee’s claims, then?” Thrawn asked.

Eli’s mouth flattened and his eyes flashed. “I don’t think she’s inventing them, if that’s what you’re implying. I was there, and I saw how terrified she was. She’s a traumatized child, yes, but she’s not a liar and she thinks clearer than some officers I’ve met. But I don’t…”

If Eli had been present when Un’hee made her pronouncement, that would explain some of his hesitation. “You don’t…?” Thrawn prompted.

“I don’t want it to be true, okay?” Eli said, his voice rising. The blush returned to his face, and he jerked to his feet. He paced the few steps to the door, then turned and stared at Thrawn, a slightly wild expression on his face. “Because if it’s true, and Vader got inside your head somehow, then you’ve been in so much more danger than I realized, and I wasn’t...I’ve been here. But I trust Vah’nya, and I trust Ar’alani. So it probably is true.”

“You have spoken to Ar’alani regarding the nature of your work here, correct? Then you know that the service you give to the Ascendency is worth many times more than the work you did in the Empire, valuable though it was.” _ Valuable to me_, Thrawn thought but did not say. “So you have no reason to feel guilty.”

Eli twined his hands together, then pushed one of them through his hair. “I know, but that doesn’t mean I’m not scared for you!” he exclaimed. He crossed the room again and fell into the chair. His body nearly hummed with nervous energy.

“Look,” Eli said. His voice was a little quieter. “I read your journal.”

“I’m gratified to hear it,” Thrawn said calmly, but his thoughts had started to tumble like a damaged TIE fighter.

Passing the journal to Eli had been a risk, but one he thought had been safe enough. Especially given that, once Eli had left for the Ascendency, he had expected never to see Eli again. Faced with the prospect of lifelong separation from the man he had grown to...care for...Thrawn had expressed emotions he might otherwise have kept to himself. The last entry, written the night before Eli had gone, had been uncharacteristically explicit about his feelings.

More explicit than he would have been, had he known he and Eli would meet again barely a year later. And when Eli had failed to seek him out, had made no mention of the journal, Thrawn had concluded with some relief that Eli had not read it.

Now, though…

“I apologize for the discomfort I must have caused. It was inadvertent on my part, I assure you,” Thrawn said. If Eli had read the journal and still made no mention of it, he most likely did not reciprocate Thrawn’s feelings, and had been embarrassed by them. An apology was awkward, but necessary.

Eli’s brow furrowed. “I appreciate the apology, I guess,” he said, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees. “But obviously I didn’t expect you to worry about how I felt, when you started palling around with Vader. It wasn’t like I could have protested, even if I’d still been in the Empire.”

Eli had misunderstood. Or was, perhaps, giving him an easy way to avoid discussing his confession. But Thrawn felt disinclined to take Eli’s offer.

“I fear you misunderstand me,” Thrawn said. Eli’s head tilted slightly in surprise. “I refer to the discomfort you must have felt when reading my journal. I know the emotions I expressed, particularly in the later entries, must have been distasteful to you.”

“Wait,” Eli said, holding up a hand and shaking his head. “Emotions? Thrawn, I-” he broke off and looked away, another blush rising on his neck and cheeks. “Oh, this is embarrassing. I’ve been trying to figure out if we’re even friends since you came aboard the _ Steadfast _the first time. I never know anything you’re thinking.”

“On the contrary, you’ve shown yourself almost uniquely adept at understanding my plans and anticipating my actions,” Thrawn contradicted, unable to help himself.

“Not what I meant,” Eli said. “You taught me how to do that stuff. But feelings? Emotions? Thrawn, what are you talking about?”

Thrawn was, for a moment, unable to speak, unable to even breathe. Eli didn’t know? How could he not have known? He forced air into his lungs. Eli was staring at him in mild alarm: Thrawn was prepared to swear that no sign of his internal strife was visible on his face, but of course Eli had learned to read him better.

“The emotions I described in my last journal entry,” Thrawn said stiffly. Eli’s mouth turned down slightly as he searched his memory for the contents of that entry. Thrawn decided to help him. “The feelings I have for you. My...admiration. Affection.”

Eli’s eyes were wide, his mouth slack. He inhaled deeply and appeared to forget to exhale.

“You’re in love with me,” he said.

Thrawn nearly flinched to hear the words spoken aloud, like releasing them into the air somehow made his feelings more concrete than they already were. He managed to contain himself with the shreds of his self-control. 

“Entirely inappropriate for someone of my station, I know. Had you remained in the Empire, you would never have known of my feelings. When you left for the Ascendency, I never expected to see you again. I became overwrought.”

“_Overwrought? _ ” Eli repeated. He laughed faintly in astonishment. “That was you overwrought? Gods, I’ve been wondering if you even _ liked _me, never mind...anything else.”

“I like you,” Thrawn said.

Eli laughed again. “Well, that’s clear by now. I, uh, like you too, for the record. In general. Not so much at this specific moment. But, Thrawn-” His voice turned serious, and he sighed. “I’m not sure I feel that way about you.”

A ball of ice seemed to be sinking slowly down from Thrawn’s chest to his stomach. Absurd to be disappointed, when an hour before he had been sure that his feelings for Eli would be a lifelong secret.

“Emotions-wise,” Eli added. “It’s just a lot to take in at once.”

“I understand,” Thrawn said. How had this conversation gotten so far away from him? “As I said previously, I am sorry to have caused you discomfort, then and now. We need speak no more of it.”

Eli stood, and Thrawn prepared for him to leave.

Instead, Eli took a step closer.

“Kiss me, “ Eli said.

* * *

Eli’s heart hammered in his chest. The words hung in the air between them.

Thrawn stared up at him, his eyes wide.

“No,” he finally said. “No, this is not-”

“Kiss me,” Eli interrupted. “I want you to. If you feel this way, then...then I want to know how I feel, too.”

Thrawn stood, and Eli abruptly remembered how much taller Thrawn was: he loomed a head above Eli, his body seeming to fill the tiny room. He took half a step closer, enough to bring their bodies within a centimeter of touching. Eli probably couldn’t really feel the heat radiating from Thrawn through two layers of uniform and the air between them, but his body sure thought he could, and it was setting him on fire.

Thrawn set a hand gently on Eli’s shoulder, his thumb just brushing the front of Eli’s neck, skin on skin, and leaned down. His face was soft, relaxed, his mouth curving in a faint smile, and Eli had a split second to think _ oh, fuck _ before Thrawn brought their mouths together.

It was...awkward? The back of Eli’s brain was buzzing, alight at the closeness and warmth of another body, but the front of his brain knew only that this was his commanding officer’s mouth on his, and couldn’t get past the strangeness.

Then Thrawn tilted his head and snuck his arm around Eli’s waist, and it was like a door opened in Eli’s mind, opened and opened and kept opening. He kissed back hard, gripping Thrawn’s shoulders tight, dragging him down.

Had he really never thought of kissing Thrawn before, never imagined those clever hands stroking his back and twining in his hair, never thought about biting those thin lips until they opened helplessly against his own? It was probably a good thing, Eli thought with the corner of his brain that wasn’t stuck on the impossible reality of Thrawn in his arms. Whatever he might have imagined could never have been as meltingly good as the real thing.

“Eli,” Thrawn murmured. He kissed Eli’s cheek, his forehead, returned to his lips for a long close-mouthed kiss, then pulled back to look at him. His arm was still around Eli’s waist, and his eyes and mouth were soft, fond, pleased.

Gods, Thrawn _ was _in love with him.

Then the small muscles around Thrawn’s eyes tightened fractionally, and his mouth set into something closer to his usual expression. Something shivered in Eli’s chest, part arousal, part alarm.

“Eli,” Thrawn repeated, and a sliver of cold had crept into his voice. “I need your help.”

“My help?” Eli asked.

“You are my only ally,” Thrawn said. “You must help me escape this ship and return to the Empire.”

Eli shook Thrawn’s hands away and jerked backwards as far as the tiny room would allow. “You want me to _ what _?” he exclaimed.

“You know this ship. Ar’alani trusts you,” Thrawn said, voice low and urgent. “I have already been delayed too long. I must-”

“No!” Eli interrupted. The heat of arousal was flaring up into the heat of pure fury. “No, absolutely not. Didn’t Ar’alani explain what was at stake?”

“You know what is at stake, Eli,” Thrawn retorted. “You served beside me for all my time in the Empire. You have observed my work, my methods, my goals. All of that will be wasted if I cannot return, and you are the only one who can help me.”

“Serving you was my _ job_!” Eli yelled. Thrawn reared back as though struck. “Don’t-don’t mistake it for anything else, all right?” A horrible thought struck him. “Wait. Was this-” he waved his hand between their bodies. “-just to get me on your side?”

“I thought you were on my side,” Thrawn said. Ignoring Eli’s real question, of course. “You stood at my side for ten years, and I know, _ I know _, it was not entirely due to duty.”

Eli flinched, because of course it was true. “Fine,” he snapped. “That doesn’t mean that I always just do what you say. Especially not now.” His hands were shaking. “It’s over, Thrawn, okay? I think I understand what you were doing in the Empire, but I’m not going to help you just walk back into Vader’s trap. You’ve lost this one.”

“No,” Thrawn insisted. “No, I have seen no evidence that the situation is not salvageable. If I-”

“No evidence except_ Un’hee seeing Vader in your head_,” Eli interrupted.

“-if I speak to the Emperor, I can explain-” 

“I am not helping you go back there!” Eli shouted. He met Thrawn’s eyes with a furious glare, took a challenging step forward, and then they were kissing again, Eli’s hands tangling in Thrawn’s hair and yanking his head down, Thrawn’s arms tight around Eli’s shoulders. 

Thrawn twisted his body to angle them even closer, and Eli sank into the kiss. He tugged a little at Thrawn’s hair, licked at Thrawn’s lips, and Thrawn made a faint desperate sound into Eli’s mouth.

It hit him like a slap.

He and Thrawn sprang away from each other. The room suddenly seemed very cold.

“Eli,” Thrawn began.

But Eli couldn’t look at him, couldn’t even think of anything to say. He walked to the door and left, leaving Thrawn alone in the room behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone gets their shit together.

Eli was sitting at his data terminal deep in the ship when his comm went off. He nearly didn’t hear it, he was so absorbed in the patterns of data before him.

It was either that or think about Thrawn, and he didn’t want to think about Thrawn right now. Didn’t want to remember how Thrawn’s voice had changed when he spoke about his hidden feelings, how his hands had been so gentle as they held Eli close, how good their bodies had felt pressed together.

How Thrawn had just assumed Eli would do as he demanded, like Eli had no loyalties of his own.

No, he wasn’t thinking about that right now. “Eli’van’to,” he answered, careful to pronounce the glottal stops correctly.

“Lieutenant Commander. My office, please,” Ar’alani said. The channel cut off before he could answer.

Not exactly odd, but not exactly normal. If Eli was a betting man, he’d bet that she wanted to talk about Thrawn. Wonderful.

He sighed, locked down the data terminal, and headed to the turbolift that would take him to Ar’alani’s office.

Ar’alani was seated behind her desk when he arrived, fingers steepled in front of her and face blank. Two chairs stood on the other side of the desk. One was empty.

Thrawn himself sat in the other.

Eli hardly recognized him. He had discarded his Imperial Navy uniform and wore plain Chiss civilian clothes: long overtunic, coat, and trousers, all in practical black. He still wore his Imperial boots, probably because none had been provided for him, and his hair was slicked back in his usual style. The cumulative effect was unsettling, somewhere in between the alien admiral Eli had known and a Chiss man he’d never met.

What was going on?

“Lieutenant Commander,” Ar’alani said. She gestured to the empty chair and Eli sat, acutely aware of Thrawn at his side. “Mitth’raw’nuruodo tells me he has information for me, but has asked that you be present when he shares it.” She paused, arched an ironic brow. “He has also refused to tell me why.”

That tone of voice, from Ar’alani, never boded well, but Thrawn seemed unaffected. 

“The lack of a data terminal in my quarters meant that I was unable to commit my information to writing,” Thrawn said. “I must therefore convey it verbally, from memory. Lieutenant Commander Vanto can corroborate and check my information if he chooses.”

He sounded exhausted. And, Eli realized, he wasn’t making any effort to hide it. Well, it was good to know that Eli hadn’t been the only one unable to sleep last night.

“Lieutenant Commander?” Ar’alani asked.

“If I can, Admiral,” Eli replied, confused. What information did Thrawn have that he was willing to share with Ar’alani, and why did he need Eli to check it?

Or was this a trick? An attempt, perhaps, to discredit Eli in Ar’alani’s eyes, to force him into Thrawn’s pocket?

“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” Thrawn said.

And he began to speak.

He began by describing the Seventh Fleet: composition, the names of its major commanders and their assignments, and their probable movements in the immediate and longer-term future. He then described the defenses, both overt and covert, deployed around Coruscant, including a discussion of the Imperial Security Bureau that had Eli’s shoulders around his ears. Thrawn then began discussing Imperial supply lines, the web of transport that built and sustained the Empire. Eli’s expertise was requested there, both to provide details that Thrawn, despite his impressive memory, could not produce, and to confirm that the information he gave was accurate.

It was all information that only an Admiral could provide, information that Ar’alani could get nowhere else. And Thrawn was giving it away freely, openly. As the torrent of information continued, Ar’alani began asking questions, and Thrawn answered each one. He seemed only to decline a question when he truly did not know the answer. Ar’alani would occasionally look at Eli when Thrawn produced some particularly startling piece of information, and he would nod at her, confirming its correctness.

Did this make him a traitor? Not more than anything else he’d done, he thought. Not more than giving up his career, his home, everything he’d ever known, merely because Thrawn had asked.

Thrawn paused for breath. Ar’alani gestured at the flask of _ stin_, the warming tea that Chiss across the Ascendency drank by the bucket, that sat on her desk. Thrawn poured himself a cup and drank it down. Something passed across his face too quickly for Eli to identify.

“Finally,” Thrawn said, curling his hands around his cup, “there is the Death Star.”

“The Death Star?” Ar’alani asked. She had remained still and calm through Thrawn’s recitation, but now she leaned forward.

“The Emperor’s superweapon. A space station the size of a small moon, capable of destroying entire planets,” Thrawn continued. His voice was flat and dead. “The Death Star project, codenamed Stardust in Imperial communications, is incomplete and secret. However, Lieutenant Commander Vanto and I came very close to discovering it during his tenure serving the Empire. I uncovered the rest of the documentation after he came to you, and can give you more details of its capabilities, should you desire. Brierly Ronan was assistant director on the project and may be able to give you more. If he can be convinced.”

“I see,” Ar’alani said. Eli wasn’t quite as good at reading her expressions as he was Thrawn’s, but he thought she looked shaken.

She wasn’t the only one. A moon-sized space station? The thought was horrifying. There was no use for something like that except terror and destruction.

And if the Emperor succeeded in putting down the rebellion and turned the Death Star towards the Ascendency…

Eli was surprised to find that his hands had clenched in his lap. He didn’t know where his loyalties lay any more, whether to the Empire, to his family on Lysatra, to the Ascendency, to Ar’alani and her crew, to a little girl still having nightmares in the Medical quarters. Even Thrawn held some measure of his allegiance, no matter how angry the thought made him.

No, Eli wasn’t beholden to any one thing any more. But if the Emperor threatened the Ascendency, he knew which side he’d fight on.

Thrawn set the empty cup on the desk. His hands shook slightly.

“That is enough,” Ar’alani said before he could speak again. “Thank you, Mitth’raw’nuruodo, for your information.”

“There is more,” Thrawn said. “Should the Ascendency wish it.” His mouth quirked in a half-smile.

“Later. Right now I will ask for action,” Ar’alani said. “Will you let Vah’nya perform the Second Sight, to ensure your mind is clean of any...influence?”

Thrawn eyes flicked towards Eli for the briefest moment: the first time he had acknowledged Eli’s presence beyond calm requests to verify his information. Tension built in Eli’s chest; he wanted to leave the room, but didn’t dare.

“Yes,” Thrawn said. “Summon her.”

\--

They ended up adjourning to the pilots’ ready room: it was more comfortable for Vah’nya, and would be safer if anything went wrong. Eli had been allowed to stay--Thrawn hadn’t requested his presence, but Eli had quietly followed him and Ar’alani to the ready room, and Ar’alani hadn’t told him to leave. That was as good as permission, as far as Eli was concerned. He sat unobtrusively in a corner.

Now Thrawn and Vah’nya sat opposite each other, Vah’nya’s hands placed delicately on top of Thrawn’s. Both had their eyes closed. Ar’alani stood protectively over Vah’nya’s shoulder.

After a while, Thrawn’s face began to tense and his breathing grew shallow. Vah’nya’s breath stayed steady and slow, but strain began to show on her face, until her jaw was clenched and her brow furrowed. Ar’alani set a comforting hand on her shoulder and Vah’nya’s face relaxed slightly, but she was clearly undergoing a massive effort.

Ar’alani caught Eli’s eye and gestured him over with her free hand. “He resists her,” she said quietly. “Help him, or she will not be able to perform Second Sight.”

Help Thrawn? How was he supposed to do that?

For lack of anything better to do, he mimicked Ar’alani’s position, standing slightly behind Thrawn and setting one hand on his shoulder. Was he allowed to talk? It seemed like a bad idea--it wouldn’t matter if Thrawn was resisting Vah’nya or not if she got distracted and came out of whatever trance-like state the navigators entered--but he didn’t know what else he could do.

He had always been able to help Thrawn before, had always stood at his side, gone along with the plans, found the data, taken the consequences. Now all he could do was wait.

Thrawn was trembling under his hand and sweat was beading along his hairline. Eli stepped closer, stroked Thrawn’s shoulder comfortingly.

He barely noticed the moment when his hand passed from fabric onto skin, didn’t realize his hand had strayed from Thrawn’s shoulder to his neck until he caught Ar’alani’s sharp gaze. Somehow he managed to keep from jerking his hand away, instead moving it back down to Thrawn’s shoulder.

No doubt there was an awkward conversation in his future. But right now, Thrawn’s breath was evening out and his face was relaxing. Vah’nya’s posture gradually shifted to mirror Thrawn’s.

They stayed that way for a long time, long enough for Eli to wish he had a chair. But he didn’t dare take his hand away from Thrawn’s shoulder.

Finally Vah’nya opened her eyes, followed shortly by Thrawn. Eli had stepped back as soon as he saw Vah’nya begin to move, and was safely standing by the wall by the time Thrawn looked around. Thrawn rubbed absently at his shoulder, but didn’t seem to realize that Eli’s hand had rested there.

“Is it done?” Ar’alani asked Vah’nya.

“Yes,” Vah’nya replied shakily. Ar’alani knelt by Vah’nya’s chair and took her hands, and Vah’nya leaned over until her head was resting on Ar’alani’s shoulder. She stayed there for a moment, then straightened up. “I found as many of the cracks left by this Vader as I could, and I have...smoothed them. It is difficult to explain in words.”

“But you are satisfied?” Thrawn asked, the first words he had spoken. His voice sounded cloudy, like he was forming the words with a tongue that couldn’t quite move the way he wanted--like he was slightly drunk, Eli realized with a start. Eli had never heard Thrawn speak with anything less than perfect precision, had never seen him inebriated in any way. It was startling to hear now.

“As much as I can be,” Vah’nya said, composed now. She gave Thrawn a long, assessing, look, a look Eli suspected she’d learned from Ar’alani. It was tinged with dislike: the navigators were very close, and Vah’nya had been furious at the danger to Un’hee. Nevertheless, she spoke again. “You may feel off-balance for a while. The cracks in your mind were deep.”

“Write up a report,” Ar’alani ordered. “What you did, what you found.”

“Admiral, I’m not entirely sure I can describe it,” Vah’nya said.

“I know,” Ar’alani said. “For now, I am the only one who will read it.”

Thrawn rose from the chair, then grabbed the back for balance. “I take it I have given you assurance?” he asked Ar’alani.

“It is enough, Thrawn,” Ar’alani said.

Eli wasn’t sure what that was about. But it didn’t matter, as Ar’alani was turning her gaze on him.

“Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” she said. “You will…”

Here, uncharacteristically, she paused.

“See that Mitth’raw’nuruodo is comfortable. Then take the rest of your shift off,” she finally said.

Eli didn’t know which of those instructions was stranger, but he hardly had time to consider: Ar’alani was leaving, and Vah’nya was giving him a look that clearly stated that she wanted both of them out of her ready room.

“Come on, I’ll walk you back to your quarters,” he said, setting off down the corridor. Thrawn caught up after a few steps. 

Eli boiled with questions and was determined to ask none of them: it was petty, but he didn’t want to give Thrawn the satisfaction of his curiosity. Fortunately, Thrawn didn’t test his resolve, just walked silently at his side through the ship’s corridors until they reached the branch that would take Thrawn back to his quarters.

They paused naturally at the branch. “Can you make it back from here?” Eli asked. Leaving Thrawn to his own devices wasn’t what Ar’alani had told him to do, but apparently she trusted Thrawn now, and Eli--

\--wanted some space, that was all, wanted to take this unexpected free time and use it to figure out what the hell was going on with his head. Whether he was still angry, whether he could trust Thrawn, whether he was truly a traitor or whether he had betrayed so much that it spun back around to honesty, why he still felt the warmth of Thrawn’s neck on his fingertips.

“Yes, I--” Thrawn began, and then he abruptly swayed and put a hand on the wall.

Eli was ducking under his arm before he’d made the decision to move, taking Thrawn’s weight and propping him up until the dizzy spell had passed. He wrapped his arms around Thrawn’s waist and Thrawn leaned on him heavily, his eyes half-closed.

Gods, this was how Thrawn had felt eighteen hours and a thousand years ago when they had kissed, pressed against Eli in a long warm line from chest to knees. It was too much and not enough all together.

Eli looked up into Thrawn’s face.

“Okay, looks like you shouldn’t be alone just yet,” Eli said. _ See that Mitth’raw’nuruodo is comfortable_, Ar’alani had said, which probably didn’t mean _ leave him alone in his room to concuss himself if he stands up too fast_. “You can stay in my quarters for a little bit, until you feel better.”

“Eli,” Thrawn murmured. He was still leaning against Eli, head bent forward, and Eli was incredibly glad that no one seemed to be using this stretch of corridor today. “Eli. I need to talk to you. I need to explain.”

“Sure, okay.” Eli got Thrawn’s arm over his shoulder and began walking them along again. “You’ve been doing a lot of explaining today. It’s a little out of character, if I’m honest.”

Thrawn didn’t answer, and they made their way back to Eli’s quarters in silence. The crewmembers they encountered looked at them curiously; Eli glared back, for once not caring about how he came across as the lone human on board the ship. He was glad no one was around to see him bundle Thrawn into his quarters, though: it looked a little risque, even if all he was doing was giving Thrawn a place to recover from Vah’nya’s Second Sight-assisted brain surgery, or whatever it was she’d done.

He made Thrawn sit on the lower bunk once they were inside while he went to the fresher to get a cup of water. Thrawn was looking around curiously when Eli came out and handed him the cup. The room was sparse: Eli had brought few mementos of the Empire when he’d left it, and had spent all his time since then on the ship. There was a second bunk bolted to the opposite wall, but it was empty: Ar’alani had thought it better to quarter him alone. Only a step separated the bunks, the room was that small.

He sat down opposite Thrawn and looked at him.

Thrawn looked back. He might have been tired, but his eyes were focused and hot. Eli felt that heat play over his face; he blushed, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. It wasn’t a good feeling, but it wasn’t bad either, just...different.

Everything was different between them now.

“You are confused,” Thrawn said quietly, after they had stared at each other for a while.

“Yeah,” Eli said, instead of any of the quips or brush-offs that were his first instinct. He was tired. “I don’t know what to think any more.”

“Neither do I, in many respects,” Thrawn said.

He hesitated, an almost vulnerable look passing over his face, and abruptly Eli understood.

Nothing was different, nothing had changed. He and Thrawn had started their friendship alone together in a tiny room, trying to be understood, and that’s where they were now. But after all these years, they didn’t need speech.

All Eli had to do was reach out.

He slid across to the other bunk, took Thrawn’s face in his hands, and kissed him. Thrawn’s hands immediately came up to grip his forearms, but he didn’t push Eli away, seemed instead only to want to feel Eli’s presence. Eli kissed him carefully, slowly, alert for any sign that Thrawn’s mind had changed.

There was no such sign. Instead Thrawn relaxed after a few moments, brushing his hands up over Eli’s shoulders to rest on his back, holding him close. Eli pushed his hands through Thrawn’s hair, broke away to kiss his jaw. He found Thrawn’s pulse in his throat, licked the thin skin there, and Thrawn ducked down to claim his mouth again.

This was good, this was better, this was more like how their relationship was supposed to be. The swelling feeling of _ rightness _ in his chest was nearly enough to eclipse Eli’s lingering anger; he chased that feeling, built it up with gentle kisses and eager touches until Thrawn was sinking down under him and their bodies were entangled on the bunk.

The kiss got away from Eli after that, a haze of Thrawn’s teeth on his neck, Thrawn’s breathing heavy in his ears. He surfaced a while later to find himself lying half atop Thrawn, his hand shoved up under Thrawn’s civilian tunic. He ground his hips down lazily, hardly realizing he was doing it, and Thrawn pressed up into him with an alacrity that shook Eli back to full awareness.

He kissed Thrawn hard. “Is it too fast?” he asked when they broke away, panting. “Because I want you. Now.”

Thrawn’s eyes flashed and he rolled them over so that Eli was pinned deliciously under his weight. “You know how I feel,” he said quietly. “Should I not be asking you whether we move too quickly?”

“No,” Eli said. He spread his legs to let Thrawn settle more firmly against him. “I mean, no, you don’t need to ask, because no, it’s not too fast, it’s--” 

He broke off because Thrawn was kissing him again, a deep airless kiss that had Eli squirming under him in seconds.

“C’mon, clothes, clothes,” he managed to gasp out a while later. He shoved Thrawn off him and began fumbling at the tabs and buckles and buttons that held his uniform together--gods, it was ridiculous, it was like the Defense Force didn’t want any of its members to ever get laid.

Thrawn’s civilian clothes were easier to remove, but his hands were still clumsy, so they finished undressing at almost the same time. Eli grabbed Thrawn’s shoulders and pulled him back down to the bunk, luxuriating in the feel of Thrawn’s skin under his hands, Thrawn’s hair brushing Eli’s face, the heat and hardness of his cock against Eli’s own. He arranged Thrawn so that he straddled Eli’s hips and rocked up into him. Thrawn quickly realized what he wanted and began grinding in rhythm, his hands planted on either side of Eli’s head.

_ Was _this too fast? Eli wondered with the last lucid corner of his mind. They would only have one first time together. Would it not be better to go slowly, to savor it, to take their time exploring each other?

Then a quiet groan escaped Thrawn’s lips and his back tightened under Eli’s hands, and Eli let that thought go entirely. They had known each other for over a decade; that was time enough. They could spend the next time wringing each other dry of pleasure, but right now Thrawn’s eyes were going distant as he began to come, his body shaking against Eli’s. That was enough to send Eli over the edge himself and he spent himself with a low moan, his spine arcing off the bed as he twisted and shuddered with release.

Thrawn was still holding himself above Eli, unmoving, although his arms were beginning to shake. He stared down at Eli for a long time, long enough for Eli to blush under his gaze. Eli pulled at Thrawn’s shoulder, and eventually Thrawn sank down to lie beside him. He was curiously pliable: Eli arranged them to his liking--himself tucked against Thrawn’s side, their legs tangled together--and Thrawn let him without comment. Well, there wasn’t much room for two people on the bunk.

Kissing Thrawn was wonderful, Eli had learned, and having sex with him promised to be correspondingly excellent. Lying twined together in bed, the slow pounding of Thrawn’s heartbeat under his ear, was also something he should have explored a long time ago, he was learning. He traced Thrawn’s ribs and was distantly amused when Thrawn twitched. Was Thrawn ticklish? Something to investigate later.

“I still have questions,” he said lazily once he figured they’d lain in silence long enough. He had a lot of questions, actually, and now that the flame of arousal had been banked he felt threads of anger creeping in again.

Thrawn loved him, and Eli...wasn’t saying it, wasn’t even thinking it.

Yet.

That didn’t mean everything was perfect. He still wanted an apology for the things Thrawn had said to him not a day ago, for one thing. And they would both have to work hard to learn who they were together when they weren’t commander and subordinate.

But all of that was secondary to the happiness that filled him and made him curl close to Thrawn’s side.

“I would be surprised if you did not,” Thrawn said. He smoothed Eli’s hair. “Although I cannot-”

“But I’m okay for now,” Eli interrupted. Thrawn tensed beneath him in surprise, and Eli tapped his ribs reassuringly. “Look,” he continued, sitting up to look Thrawn in the face, “I still want explanations for a lot of things, and we’re going to have a lot of really long conversations pretty soon. But this-” he waved a hand, taking in the bunk, their clothes on the floor, their disheveled bodies “-right now, this is enough.”

“I’m glad,” Thrawn said simply. He drew Eli back down against him, which was good, because Eli was blushing again. He hid his face in Thrawn’s neck. “And now,” Thrawn continued, “will you tell me what your life has been like among my people?”

Him and Thrawn, alone in a small room, telling stories. Eli smiled, and began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coda: Un'hee gets a therapy dog and ice cream whenever she wants, and lives happily ever after.


End file.
